


Surrender

by moviehowell



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angsty As Hell Tbh, Dan Howell - Freeform, Death, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I'm Sorry, Mild Smut, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Phan - Freeform, Phil Lester - Freeform, Smut, Song Lyrics, Songfic, This will probably make you cry, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moviehowell/pseuds/moviehowell
Summary: A deathly silence hangs in the air after Phil's words, as if none of us were strong enough to speak."Just surrender to them, and then they can't hurt you." Dan replies impeccably slowly, his voice calm but barely hovering above a whisper."God," I think to myself, turning my head away from Dan so he doesn't notice the burning tears forming in my eyes. "If only that were true."-This work was originally posted on Wattpad a few months ago, so if it seems familiar that's probably why. I put the names and titles of different songs that inspired the chapters at the beginning of each one, and there is a Dan Howell x O/C romance eventually. I promise it's better than the summary lmao





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:  Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again**

**Artist:  Simon Lee, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Emmy Rossum**

 

"So...chocolate or vanilla?"

I grip my dad's hand, a grin spreading over my features. "Swirl!"

He chuckles softly, "That's my girl."

My dad ruffles my hair, and I squeeze his hand even tighter. As an 8 year-old, I find it practically impossible to love anyone else as much as I love my daddy.

"Here you go, sweetheart," he smiles, handing me a single-scoop cone swirled with chocolate and vanilla.

"Thank you, Daddy." I skip off to a table, my tiny curls bouncing in the wind, and sit down, my father following close behind.

"Actually...how about we eat while we walk back home? I just might have bought you a...new book!"

I gasp, my eyes lighting up. "Oh, thank you, Daddy! Let's get home as fast as we can!"

My dad laughs, smiling down at me. "Alright, I thought you'd say that."

We walk back towards our house, laughing as the melting ice cream drips onto our hands and clothes. Soon enough, we’re only a few blocks away from home, and I’m toddling precariously on a stray piece of wood in an alley, holding my arms out like I’m a gymnast on a beam. My dad holds my hand tightly as I wobble along, helping me balance. Suddenly, I feel his arm tense up as he quickly lets go of my hand and stops walking completely.

"Daddy?" I ask uncertainly, looking back at him, and he rushes to cover my mouth.

"Shh, shh." My eyes fill will with fear and questioning as I look up at my father. He cups my face in his hands, fear filling his features as well.

"Kelly, listen closely and do exactly as I say. I need to you to go hide behind that trash can-- _ now _ ! Go, run!"

I break away from my father obediently, running to the trash can as fast as my little legs will carry me. I'm breathing heavily, and scared for my dad. Why isn't he coming with me?

I peek out from behind the can, kneeling on damp asphalt because of the rain earlier. The sight before my eyes makes me want to break down into tears.

At least six men emerge from various places around the alley, each one armed with a very large gun and clothed in swathes of black. They all train their guns on my poor father, who shakily raises his hands in surrender.

"P-please," I hear him stutter, and all I want in that moment is to run and give him a hug. But even I'm smart enough to know I have to stay hidden.

"Please, you can take me. Just don't hurt my daughter," my dad pleads, and a tear drips down my small, rosy cheek onto the cold ground.

"I-I surrender to you! Take me as prisoner, I just, my daughter needs a father, and--" My father's voice cracks.

"Quiet!" one of the men commands, and I hear him load his gun. I can see him sneer behind a black bandanna, and he has an eyepatch covering his left eye. On his right eyebrow, I notice a triangular piercing catching the light of the moon.

"No!" I hear myself whisper as the man pushes my dad around, my little fists clenched with fear.

"So, we can take you as prisoner, huh?" Eyepatch addresses my dad, prodding him in the shoulder with his large weapon.

"Y-yes."

"As long as we don't hurt your precious little daughter, right?"

"Yes."

"Well...I think it'd just be more fun to kill both of you. Don't you guys agree?"

The barbaric men around him let out a hearty cheer in agreement. My breath catches in my throat, and I have to force myself to hold back a sob. Tears burn in my throat and tumble down my cheeks as the men grow more and more rowdy, loading their guns with wicked intent.

"Well, say goodbye to your daughter, then," the evil man laughs, raising his pierced eyebrow mockingly as he puts his gun up to my poor father's head.

"Kelly, I love y--"

My dad's last words are cut off by an ear-splitting gunshot, and I collapse with sobs. I hear their pounding footsteps coming towards me, but I don't even move. If they killed my dad, then why not let them kill me, too? At least I'll see him again.

"Hey, stop right there!" a new voice commands, but I don't bother to look up. “Lay down your weapons immediately, police orders!”

Gunfire begins to echo around me, and someone grabs my shoulders. I don’t resist, just dangle there helplessly, too weak to move. I'm lifted into a large truck--an ambulance, as I realize once I’m inside--and various paramedics clothed in white swarm my body, their shadows blocking out the fluorescent lights dotting the top of the van.

"Are you hurt?" they ask, frantically checking my body for physical injuries while speaking firmly into walkie-talkies. 

“I just want my dad back. I need my dad!” I yell, almost to myself.

“Are you hurt?” They repeat, urgently pushing me to answer. “Any pain at all?”

I look up at the solemn strangers, tears of sheer paranoia cascading down my cheeks, and answer the only truth that comes to mind. 

"My heart hurts."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: When Will My Life Begin?**

**Artist: Mandy Moore**

 

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years ago today, my father was killed. My mother doesn't even remember...or doesn’t care, at least. But I do. I'll never forget.

I sit back on my heels, reaching up to feel the locket around my neck. My heart settles a bit with the familiar feeling of its cool metal on my fingertips. I close my eyes, picturing the image inside. I've stared at the photo so many times, I know it like the back of my hand.

It's of me, age 5 or so, with the biggest, toothiest smile on my face. My dad holds my left hand, looking down at me with a grin as large as my own, while my best childhood friend, Dan, hugs me from the other side. Dan’s eyes are squeezed shut with glee and his wildly curly hair is tossed gently by the wind. We're standing by my favorite red bench at the park outside our old house. I remember the day vividly--it was at Dan’s 6th birthday party, and we had gone out for a nice walk with his family. We’re all laughing heartily, as Dan’s grandma pulled a goofy face before taking the perfect snapshot of our blissful happiness.

A grin spreads across my features at just the faint memory of that day, and the memory of my life before the accident.

"I miss you, dad. I love you always."

I miss Dan, too, and always wonder what happened to him. I’m sure he’d never remember me, but I promise myself that if I ever get out of this hellhole, I’ll find him. I smile to myself at the thought and sit for a moment in comforting silence, blanketed by my happy memories.

" _Kelly!_ ”

I groan, already knowing what’s coming.

“It's already 05:06, why haven't you started your chores yet?!"

"Coming, Mother."

I tuck the locket safely under the neckline of my shirt, hoping to hide it from my mother. It's the only material thing I have left that reminds me of my dad, and if she sees it she’ll surely take it away. I usually avoid wearing it, just to be safe, but the anniversary of the accident is different. I always find some way to wear it on this date, just to honor my father and the strength he had, and to remind me that I possess strength of my own.

"Kelly, I’m waiting! Start dusting the banisters, you repulsive creature," my mother hisses the second she catches sight of me.

"But, Mother!” I protest, stumbling backward a bit at her sudden appearance. “I just finished them yesterday!"

"I'm fully aware of that! It's your punishment for being exactly--she pauses to check her jeweled watch--six and a half minutes late. Then, you can continue with your regular daily chores."

"Y-yes, Mother."

I reluctantly start my chores for the day, the exact same routine I've followed since I was forced to move here. My mother received custody of me when he died, as the government saw her as the most capable. Against my wishes, I was sent off to live with her within a week of his death.

To put it nicely, he divorced her for a reason.

Immediately after I got here, I became the personal maid of the family. I was forced to cater to her every need, not to mention anything my rich stepfather (who always seemed to be off on "business"), and their daughter, Anastasia, requested.

"Kelly!"

Ah, speak of the devil.

"Yes, Annie?" I reply snarkily, the slightest smirk daring to spread across my features. It’s a risky move, and I already know what’s coming moments before it happens.

"I told you--and there it is, a sharp slap to my cheek--do _not_ call me Annie! My name is Anastasia!"

"Annie," my mother croons wickedly from the kitchen, "no physical punishment for our maid. I'll take care of that."

"Whatever, Mom."

"What do you want, Anastasia?" I ask, unable to stop irritability from creeping into my tone.

She tosses a strand of meticulously curled blonde hair over her shoulder and demands, "Find my diamond earrings!"

I try to keep my cool at her ungrateful attitude, speaking as calmly as I can manage in response. "Anastasia, you can't expect me to--"

"Do it!" Anastasia commands, her perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched daringly. "Or I'm telling Mother."

"Of course I'll find them, Anastasia," I sigh, helpless. "Anything for you."

“Hmph,” she grins victoriously as she walks away with her nose in the air, and I sneer at the back of her overly gaudy dress. The whole family has the sick image that they're some kind of royalty. In fact, if I don't "address them as royalty and converse with them as such," I receive a slap to the face--and, if they’re feeling particularly evil, an extra serving of chores as well.

"Why aren't you cleaning?!"

Her unpleasant voice snaps me out my daze. "Sorry, Mother, I just...zoned out."

Immediately, I receive a matching hit to my other cheek, and I clench my teeth as not to wince from the pain.

"Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, Mother."

She clacks away in her garish heels, and I rub my cheek bitterly. I take a deep breath, knowing that the locket rests safely against my chest, and feel a surge of strength. My father is helping me through this, I just know it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: In My Own Little Corner**

**Artist: Laura Osnes**

 

I collapse on the floor of my tiny bedroom with a defeated sigh, wiping dirt and sweat from my brow. Another long, eventless day.

"Finally," I mutter to myself, not hesitating to pull my favorite book off of the shelf: _Cinderella._

To put it simply, I wasn't very well educated after my dad died--I was "homeschooled," which basically meant that my mother made me clean instead of teaching me anything. However, if I've learned something at all worth retaining, it's how to read. My father began to teach me when I was little, and I was very good at it back then. I self-taught myself to read everything else, and now books are my only salvation.

I sit back onto the bed, pulling my legs up and crossing them beneath me as I open the old storybook. The stale crackling of the spine is music to my ears, and it brings a rare smile to my face despite everything happening in my daily life. I read the words aloud, trying to block out the rest of the world from my mind.

"There she was obliged to do heavy work from morning to night, get up early in the morning, draw water, make the fires, cook, and wash." I giggle softly at the words, recognizing the similarity between Ella’s life and my own. When I reach my favorite part of the story, I can’t help happiness from creeping into my voice as I picture myself in Cinderella’s situation--one of my greatest childhood dreams.

"And when she appeared in it among the guests every one was astonished at her beauty. The Prince had been waiting until she came, and he took her hand and danced with her alone. And when any one else came to invite her he said, 'She is my partner.'"

I smile with solemn longing and wish aloud, “If only I had a prince to save me from this hell.”

I refuse to let myself wallow in self-pity, though. I can only hope that I’ll get out of here one day, prince or no prince. My eyes flicker back down to the storybook, turning the worn, yellowed page, when the door to my room bangs open.

"Who are you talking to?!" My mother demands.

"I--I was just talking to myself, Mother, I'm sorry."

"And how can you dare to sit here _reading_ \--she quickly snatches the book from my hands as I let out a yelp of protest--when you still haven't finished all of your chores?"

I tilt my head, confused. "But, Mother, I have."

Anger grows in her voice, and I bite my lip nervously. "You haven't found my Annie's diamond earrings! What is she to wear when we go out?!"

My eyes widen, and I feel my heart drop into my stomach. "Oh my goodness, Mother, I'm sorry! It just completely slipped my mind!"

My mother cackles, a chillingly evil sound. "You're _sorry_ , are you?"

"Yes, Mother, and I'll find them immediately, I swear!" I scramble to my feet nervously. My mother gets angry often, but she’s rarely like this. As if confirming my fears, she laughs again, a wicked glow in her eyes.

"That won't be necessary." My mother turns and leaves the room, tucking my book under her arm.

"Wait, my book!" I call out timidly, following her with a hand outstretched.

"Hm? Oh, this old thing." Before I can even react, she recklessly tosses my book to Anastasia, who's already waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a malicious grin.

"No, wait!" I cry out helplessly, pushing past my mother and scampering down the stairs. “Please, don’t!”

But when I reach the bottom of the great spiral staircase, I'm too late. Anastasia has already thrown my favorite storybook into the roaring fireplace. The novel is engulfed in bright orange flames that devour the worn pages and beautiful velvety cover, destroying the poetic words that I've grown to love so much. Anastasia lets out a cackle, frighteningly similar to my mother's.

Tears well in my eyes, but I force myself blink them away. My father once again helps me to find strength, and I realize that I'll never forget that beautiful story. It will always be in my heart. I turn from the hearth silently in protest of their actions, attempting to push past my mother. To my surprise, though, she pulls me back by my arm.

"What...is this?"

Fear swells in my heart as her claw-like nail slowly laces itself underneath the chain around my neck, pulling the locket out of its hiding place.

"It's a locket." I confirm, the reality of the situation finally settling in and causing a sudden anger to flare in my voice. "It's from my dad-- _your husband_."

Her eyes glow with malice, and she seems to stare straight into my soul. I quickly try to backtrack, knowing that I’ve misspoken by mentioning him.

"Please," I plead with her, my voice breaking, "it's all I have left of him. I beg you, don't take it away from me."

"You don't need him," my mother growls, her voice crescendoing into a shout. "You don't need _this_!"

I gasp as she viciously yanks the chain from my neck, snapping the finely crafted links before I can stop her. She tosses the once beautiful jewelry to the ground and steps on it with incredible force, undoubtedly denting the garment beyond repair.

"No!" I choke out as she repeatedly crushes my beautiful locket. "Please!"

When she's finally satisfied with her work, she kicks the jewelry across the floor to the foot of the hearth, a stony grimace plastered to her face. I run to it and fall to my knees in utter despair, finally letting my tears fall.

"Come, Annie. Let's go out." My mother’s voice is barely above a whisper, and I almost sense a tinge of sympathy in her tone, as if she might even regret her actions the tiniest bit. I can’t dare to wonder, though, as Annie adds insult to injury while she struts out the door, snickering,

"Don't forget to clean the hearth while we're out, _maid_."

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos if you liked this chapter, and comments with any constructive criticism are immensely appreciated! All the love ❤︎❤︎❤︎


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